


lucky

by soapyconnor



Category: Narcos (TV)
Genre: Blood and Torture, Kidnapping, Knifeplay, M/M, Rape
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-28
Updated: 2018-01-28
Packaged: 2019-03-10 10:35:03
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,200
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13500108
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/soapyconnor/pseuds/soapyconnor
Summary: There was saying. The bad guys always got lucky. The good guys just had to get lucky once.





	lucky

            There was saying. The bad guys always got lucky. The good guys just had to get lucky once.

            From Pablo’s side of the equation, he was the good guy, and he was thankful that he was lucky just this _once_. Of course, he knew he did bad things, and he _knew_ that technically, theoretically, that he wasn’t supposed to get lucky. That he should be running from the DEA, not towards them, but this particular agent had been a thorn in his side for too long. According to some, hurting the DEA was off limits. He knew what happened the last time they had messed with him, but fuck. They were getting too close and he needed to send them a message to back the fuck off.

            Pablo watched Peña. The DEA agent was drinking at a bar, and seemed completely unaware that anyone was even looking at him. Pablo couldn’t decide what he wanted to do more: go up to Peña, and strangle him, or have one of his men go up and take him. Either way, Peña wouldn’t be making it out of here, and would be coming back with him. Deciding he would rather see the man’s reaction when he found out he had been kidnapped by the great Pablo Escobar, he turned to his men, and nodded towards the DEA agent. “Go in and get him. Knock him out. We will be taking him.”

            “Where?”

            “That’s for me to know. Hurry up and get him before he notices us,” Pablo commanded, waving a hand. The men nodded, and went inside. He watched as they approached Peña, and at first the man was confused, and struggled, but he succumbed to the two men quickly. Pablo turned and headed to the car, knowing he would no longer need to wait.

            He smiled at the thought of what he was going to do to the man. It was something that no man would want to admit, and would rather _die_ then admit to it. But this would be a good message for the DEA, he knew it.

 

 

            Pablo directed his men to an abandoned house, where he had them promptly tie Peña up, and placed him on the floor, with his back resting against the wall. Now, all he had to do was wait for the fucker to wake up. Pablo wasn’t one hundred percent sure what he was going to do to Peña yet. He knew he was going to fuck with the man, but he didn’t know if he was going to demand information from him. Hm . . .

            He would have to end up winging it, he thought with slight dismay as he watched Peña stir. He turned towards the man, and stalked forward as he looked around in confusion. Once Peña saw him, though, he began to struggle and panic. It was a rather beautiful sight to behold. He walked forward, and spoke harshly in Spanish, “Did you think you all could get away with this? Killing my men, ruining my business?” He didn’t know whether this man spoke Spanish or not. He probably did, but Pablo didn’t really give a fuck. Viciously, he smacked Peña across the face.

            Peña moaned, and his shoulders shook, before he looked up at Pablo through his bangs. To Pablo’s surprise and pleasure, Peña spoke Spanish. “Maybe you should stop poisoning the people of the United States and we would leave you alone?” he suggested, and spat.

            Pablo crouched down so they were eye level. “Your people buy my drugs. It’s just supply and demand, something I thought you Americans would know something about. Even if I were to stop, you DEA agents wouldn’t stop until I was _dead_.”

            Peña cocked his head. He was playing a dangerous game, but he seemed to have a mouth on him that he couldn’t—or just didn’t want too—control, and he said, “I guess you’re right. You’re such a smart man.” There was only a momentary pause. “What are you going to do with me? Kill me? You know the DEA will be on your ass even more till my death is avenged.”

            Pablo didn’t offer him a response at first. Instead, he pulled out his pocket knife, let the switch blade come out, and then he dragged it gently across Peña’s face. “I’m going to do something to you that you will never forget,” he said, not allowing himself to snarl. “Something that you won’t ever tell your fellow agents. If you did . . . they’d laugh at you. Call you a faggot, just like you are, and that fuckin’ Murphy.” He stood up, and pressed his foot against Peña’s shoulder, pushing him back against the wall. “Of course, they will know something oh so _tragic_ happened to you . . . but you will be unable to say what. What a lasting impression that will leave.”

            Peña went quiet, and he seemed to have no idea what Pablo meant at first. Then his eyes slowly widened, and he pressed himself back against the wall, shaking his head _no_. Pablo smiled and he grabbed Peña by the hair, before he threw him to the ground on his front. He enjoyed watching Peña struggle, with his hands tied behind his back and his feet together. Pablo got down on his knees, behind him, and took the pocket knife, dragging it around his jeans, before he dug it down the crease.

            “Stop—stop—fuck—” Peña pleaded, and attempted to get away, but Pablo had a tight grip on the back of his jacket. He then turned the knife, and swiped it across Peña’s left ass check, then back again, cutting a giant hole in his trousers. Peña continued to plead for Pablo to stop, but he didn’t really listen. He took his knife, and stabbed it through Peña’s shoulder, causing him to scream out in pain.

            Peña’s head dropped to the ground, and he began to lose all fight. Pablo’s index finger traced the crease of his ass, and Peña’s hips jerked forward, trying to get away from him, but the pain in his shoulder caused him to abruptly stop and groan. Pablo smirked, and said, “You Americans aren’t really too tough, are you? Wasn’t hard to get you at all.” He pushed his finger furiously inside his ass, and Peña _screamed_. It was beautiful.

Peña’s hips jerked forward, trying oh so desperately to get away, but Pablo held him still. His breathing was ragged, and hoarse, and he sounded to be in so much pain. “We n-n-never expected y-you . . .” he drew off, as Pablo forced another finger inside him, “t-t-t-to kidnap a DEA agent.”

            Pablo pressed himself up against Peña, and he smiled as he felt the man slightly flinch. Seeing such a scared reaction from him was so . . . _gratifying_. He removed his fingers, and then he used his free hand to unbuckle his belt, while he kept his other hand firmly gripping Peña’s neck, digging his nails into the soft skin. “Oh, no no. You must have gotten it wrong. I would never _kill_ a DEA agent, but kidnapping? Oh, that’s definitely on the table.” He spat into his hand, and began to stroke his cock. Peña was soft, and even Pablo imagined hard enough, he could probably imagine him as a woman. But, he knew once he heard Peña scream in pain, he would be brought back to reality.

            Peña thought Pablo wouldn’t do this. He wouldn’t go this far. He would just scare him, interrogate him, then let him go. He wouldn’t go that far. He _wouldn’t_ —

            Peña screamed, and he attempted to escape Pablo, but his hand just wrapped tighter around his throat and dragged him back onto his cock. Pablo smiled, as he pulled out and thrust himself back in. He didn’t prepare the man as well as he should have, and when he pulled out the second time, there was blood on his cock. “What was your name again?” he asked, in a mocking tone, to show how _insignificant_ he was.

            In an act of defiance, the man below him muttered out, “Javier.”

            “Well, Javier, how does it feel to have your ass pounded by me?” he asked, as his hand traveled up to Javier’s hair and yanked harshly. “To be so close to me, to have me _inside you_ , and knowing you will never be this close to me again?”

            “Fuck you,” Javier replied, wheezing loudly. He tried to ignore the sharp pain in his shoulder, but every time Pablo jerked into him, it would cause sharp pain to run through him.

            “Oh, this must be the best day ever for you then, because you’re getting what you want,” Pablo snarled in return. He reached up, and ripped the knife out of Javier’s shoulder. He then pressed it against Javier’s skin, and dragged it across his spine. His hips jerked in faster, sharper. “You will have so many lovely scars because of me. So many beautiful reminders. Things you will have to live with the rest of your life.”

            Javier didn’t respond. The pain was immense, and his cock was growing hard. He hated that he was fucking _aroused_ by the situation. He wished that he could have remained flaccid, but clearly his body had other plans for him.

            “Will you remember this? Remember what it was like to have my cock inside you? I’m sure you will . . .” he said, as he leaned down and licked up the blood on Javier’s back. Javier let out a grunt. “But I’m sure this isn’t the first time you’ve had a cock inside you. Am I wrong?”

            Javier didn’t respond.

            Angrily, Pablo jabbed the knife into Javier’s right ass cheek, then pulled it out, and stabbed it into his thigh. Javier screamed, and he collapsed onto his face. Pablo had to hold him up, because his legs had grown weak and dropped as well. By Javier dropping himself down, Pablo could get deeper into him. Javier’s breathing picked up a notch. “Tell me, _Javier_ , am I _wrong_ about this not being the first time you’ve had a cock inside you?”

            “Y-Yes.”

            Pablo took the knife out, and ran it along Javier’s neck. He didn’t cut him, just threatened him a bit. “Liar. Tell me the truth. You know I’ve had people watching you, and that fucking gringo. But, I would rather hear it from your fucking faggot mouth.”

            Javier groaned. He mumbled, “No.”

            “Oh, why am I not surprised? Tell me more, _Javier_.”

            He swallowed harshly, as Pablo began to pound into him. He shifted, the pain growing uncomfortable. “I-I’ve gone to brothels with men,” he muttered, “I’ve used dildos. I—”

            “Have had sex with your partner, Steve Murphy? Hm. Not surprised.”

            Tears filled Javier’s eyes. He let out a broken sob. “Yes,” he choked out.

            Pablo jerked Javier’s head back, and whispered into his ear, “Now you can say you’ve had the notorious Pablo Escobar. I’m sure you’ll _love_ to flaunt it.” He then came into him, and once he was filled, he pulled out abruptly, allowing Javier’s to fall onto the groan.

            Javier cried out in pain, and he laid there, trembling furiously. Pablo picked up his knife, and held him down, before he carved **slut** into the skin right above his ass. He made sure to dig deep enough, that it would stay there forever. “There. Now your precious _Murphy_ will know what you are,” he said with a snap, as he stood up and pulled up his pants.

            He buckled them up, and then whistled. One of his henchmen came in. “Get him into some new clothes, tie up him, and take him to the American Embassy. Leave him out front. I’m sure the DEA will be pleased to see just how easily one of their agents can be taken.”

He didn’t wait for a response. He knew what the answer would be. He glanced at Javier, who’s eyes were fluttering shut. “I hope it’ll be harder to get you next time, Mr. _Pe_ _ña_ ,” he said sarcastically, before he turned and left the building, a small smile on his face.

 

 

            Javier didn’t really remember much about what happened next. He knew the man forced him into some clothes—which were immediately blood stained—and threw him in a car, before driving him to the American Embassy, where he was promptly dropped out front. He was laid there on the front step on his front, with his ass up in the air.

            It didn’t take long for Steve to find him.

            “Fuck, Javi!” he had shouted upon seeing him. He ran forward, and quickly untied him. “Javier, shit, what the fuck happened—” he cut himself off, then said, “Fuck, I need to take you to the hospital, I need too—”

            “No,” Javi managed to croak out, as Steve helped him sit up. The man opened his mouth to protest, when Javi reached forward, grabbing him by the front of his shirt, and pulling him close. He sobbed loudly. “No. Don’t. Please. Just take me home.”

            “Javi—”

            “Take. Me. Home.”

            Steve sighed, and relented.

            _The bad guys got lucky all the time. The good guys just had to get lucky once._


End file.
